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The Fox of France - Chapter 509
🕑 Added 2024-04-28 02:29:56 +0000 UTCChapter 509: Departure
In fact, during this period, the people of the South were truly impoverished.
Firstly, the war wreaked havoc. The British had burned many port cities and the cotton fields near the coast.
Originally, the economic outlook of the South was already bleak due to the absence of cotton orders from Britain during the war. This, combined with the destruction caused by the war, only added insult to injury. However, there was some good news. Although the British orders had ceased, the demand in the European market still existed. The price of cotton fabrics in Europe had generally increased, and it was said that the British had burned all the American cotton fields (of course, this was an exaggeration), which caused market tension, and after a significant drop, the price of cotton did rebound somewhat.
But the rebound in cotton prices was far from compensating for the losses of the war. More devastatingly, Martin and James lived right by the sea, where the British also set fires. Cities were half burned down, thankfully, the people had fled. Many cotton fields were also burned. As for the stored cotton, it was completely burned by the British. Thus, when cotton prices rebounded, they did not benefit. In fact, those more inland and the French in Louisiana actually took advantage of the rebound—if they hadn’t sold their cotton before the prices went up.
Considering the cost of rebuilding their homes, people really didn’t have much money. Even if they had money, much of it had already been lent to friends.
So when Martin mentioned he was broke, everyone sighed together.
“These are tough times! I used to drink French wine, and now I can only afford local beer,” another person lamented.
“Everything’s gone up in price, except for guns and ammunition, which are cheaper than before,” someone complained.
On the North American continent, whether in Mexico or former Canada, the war had ended. Therefore, firearms and ammunition, which had once been scarce, were now in surplus and being sold at a discount. Although shipping these items to Europe seemed profitable, the round-trip freight costs made this business less appealing. Of course, that wasn’t the main reason. The main reason was that France did not want to see such a large amount of second-hand weapons appear in Europe, encroaching on the market that belonged to the French.
Thus, in Georgia, everything was expensive except for firearms and ammunition. Even though everyone was poorer, they didn’t need to worry about wasting bullets when shooting for fun. Often, out of boredom, people would fire a few shots into the air just to hear the noise, since it was cheap.
Of course, the economic hardship, coupled with the widespread availability and exceptionally low prices of firearms and ammunition, naturally led to one consequence: rampant crime.
The difficult life and chaotic public safety situation deeply troubled everyone.
“What’s worse, I still have to support a bunch of slaves! Honestly, I envy those French factory owners in the west. Look how straightforward they are—when there’s work, they open their doors and pull in a bunch of new immigrants; once there’s no work, they shut down the machines and kick all the workers out, not keeping a single idler. But for us slave owners, it’s really tough. Now that the cotton fields are burned, we don’t need the slaves for any work, but we still have to support them. This is really…” another person complained.
So, it’s clear that free laborers are much better than slaves.
Also, because of this, no one could afford to support Martin.
“It’s safe to say, no one here is having a good time,” someone complained.
“Not everyone, Dyson’s doing pretty well. His Louisiana wine has made him a lot of money,” someone loudly added.
Everyone then burst into laughter because Dyson’s Louisiana wine was initially a failed venture of his. A French business partner, having incurred losses in business, had mortgaged a batch of Louisiana wine to Dyson.
Although Louisiana was also French territory and some French had brought grapevines there to make wine, the quality of these wines couldn’t even compare to Bordeaux wines, let alone those from Italy or Austria. Thus, the main use for Louisiana wine was to be sold to low-end taverns, then diluted and passed off as Italian wine. But it wasn’t just directly passed off; it was mixed in.
So, although it was still wine, Louisiana wine was priced about the same as beer. Basically, it was something that couldn’t be sold off. Dyson’s friend quickly went bankrupt and disappeared to who knows where.
Compared to the money Dyson had lent to his friend, the Louisiana wine was truly worthless. However, unexpectedly, the war broke out, and after the war started, the demand for alcohol significantly increased, but the supply faced issues.
With fewer ships heading to Europe, and most cargo being directly related to the war, the amount of grape wine imported from Europe drastically reduced. As a result
, the previously disdained and considered only fit for household slaves to drink, Louisiana wine suddenly became valuable. Its price soared, and with everyone else being poor, Dyson actually made a fortune from this batch of wine.
"Dyson, you’ve made a fortune, why not give some money to support Martin to go to Massachusetts and take out those two bastards?" someone shouted.
"I can offer him a drink, but funding him to commit murder, that’s not right," Dyson replied with a smile, shaking his head.
"Come on, Dyson, it’s just a murder. Who here hasn’t killed someone? Besides, can those two even be considered human?" someone loudly said.
"How about this, Martin’s always been a good shot, and you’re not bad either, Dyson. Why not have a wager, old rules, three hundred feet, chest target, ten shots. If Martin wins, you give him a hundred dollars, which should be enough for a trip to Massachusetts. If you win, well, for the next month, Martin comes here to work for you every day."
The wager didn’t seem fair, as a waiter's salary definitely didn’t need to be as high as a hundred dollars. However, considering the removal of national traitors wasn’t Martin’s personal affair, it was not unacceptable, but Dyson suggested a modification.
"If it’s ten shots, I might as well just give the money," Dyson said, "Martin is a better shot than I am. If we have to bet, let's bet on one shot. Also, since this isn’t just Martin’s private matter, if Martin loses, then let it be, but if he wins, each of you present must come here and work for me for one day. How about that?"
Betting on one shot had a lot more chance involved than ten shots, as there was no opportunity for adjustment. This way, where the skill level was not significantly different, luck played a much larger role. This obviously gave Dyson, who was a slightly worse shot, a better chance of winning. Just like later generations changed table tennis matches from twenty-one points per game to eleven points per game to increase the randomness of the matches. Although the change was well-intentioned, the final outcome proved that if the skill was lacking, relying on these tricks had limited use.
Since Dyson’s proposal was reasonable, everyone agreed. So Dyson had someone bring rifles—top-notch French goods, now worthless.
The two men then went to the shooting range, and everyone else followed, with those originally at the range stopping to watch the duel.
Dyson had someone set up a target three hundred feet ahead. Then he said to Martin, "Why don’t you shoot first?"
The shooting range was outdoors, so there were relatively more disturbances, making the first shot more difficult to execute well. However, Martin did not object. He loaded a bullet into the rifle, raised it, aimed for a while, and then fired.
"Nine rings!" The target caller loudly announced his score. At this distance, using a rifle that wasn’t his regular one and scoring nine rings with one shot was already quite impressive.
Even Martin himself was very satisfied with his shot, so he put down his rifle and said to Dyson, "Alright, your turn."
Dyson looked at Martin and said, "A nine-ring shot, how am I supposed to match that?" As he spoke, he raised his already loaded rifle, aimed for a while, and then fired as well.
"Seven rings!" The target caller immediately announced the shooting score.
"Actually, my shot wasn’t bad either," Dyson said as he put down the rifle and extended his hand to Martin, adding, "But your shot was just too good."
Since the outcome of the wager was determined, Dyson, being a straightforward man, went directly to his office and soon came back with a wallet.
From the wallet, Dyson pulled out two crisp hundred-dollar bills and handed them to Martin, "A hundred dollars might be a bit tight, so I'll lend you another hundred. If you return and haven't used it all, just give me back the surplus. Hmm, you sure you want to go to Massachusetts and settle the score?"
"Of course, with so many witnesses, can I not keep my word?" Martin replied.
"In that case, I have to write a letter for you. You know I do business, and I have friends all over North America. I have a French friend who’s currently doing business in Boston. When you get there, you can look him up; he might be able to help you out," Dyson said.
"Is this friend of yours reliable?" Martin asked. He was planning to commit murder and didn’t want to get caught by the police in Massachusetts because of some unreliable person.
"If he were unreliable, I wouldn’t introduce him to you," Dyson said, "Alright, continue to enjoy yourself here, I’ll go write that letter."
So Dyson went back to his office. After a while, he came out with an envelope.
He handed the envelope to Martin, "The envelope isn’t sealed. Check the content first, and if you think it’s okay, then I’ll seal it."
Martin pulled out the letter from the envelope and read it through. It didn’t say much, just told the French friend, Mr. Pidou, that Martin was his friend, coming here to handle some matters, hoping he could provide some help within his capabilities.
"A lot of things, I can’t directly write in a letter," Dyson said, "But Pidou is a reliable friend, someone you can trust your back with. After you meet him, you can tell him your plans directly. If possible, he will definitely want to help you."
Martin then expressed his thanks to Dyson, who, in front of him, sealed the envelope and handed it to him. Then, raising his glass, Dyson said, "Friends, let's raise a toast to wish Martin success."
Everyone laughed for a while, and Martin then returned home. Although he was very dissatisfied with the two traitors, he hadn’t intended to travel thousands of miles to take their lives. It was just that at the club, after having a couple of drinks and being egged on by everyone, he actually agreed to do it.
But it was too late to back out now, as reneging on such a matter would mean he couldn’t mix in the local area anymore. So, although he was somewhat nervous, he was determined to carry out the task.
So, he told his wife that he needed to make a long trip soon to handle some matters. Then he boarded a ship and headed north by sea.
If he were a bit further west, in Louisiana, taking a train would have been a good option. The French had built a north-south railway along the Mississippi River, stretching from New Orleans up to the regions near the Great Lakes. It was said that the French planned to extend this railway to Quebec in the future.
But in the current United States, there was no such railway connecting the southern and northern parts of the country, nor was there a river like the Mississippi linking the north and south. Therefore, the most convenient means to the north was still by sea.
Martin carried a rifle and a revolver on board. At this time, America had almost no gun control, and it was normal for people traveling long distances to carry guns, and no one minded.
Soon, Martin landed at Boston harbor. Then he followed Dyson’s address to find Mr. Pidou.
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